


Not One Before Another

by The_Buzz



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Brother Feels, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Caring Loki, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Thor, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Post-Thor Ragnarok, injuries, thor whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 10:49:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14768177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Buzz/pseuds/The_Buzz
Summary: Post-Ragnarok Thor h/c.After the final battle in Ragnarok, Thor tries to fulfill his new duties as King of Asgard while dealing with the wounds from his battle with Hela. To make matters worse, Loki seems to be angling for the throne again. (Or is he?)





	Not One Before Another

Thor smiled at the lady passing him by in the corridor--whatever her name was--and gave a little wave at her baby.

King of Asgard.

That he’d be King in Odin’s place one day, he’d always known. That it would happen like this, with Asgard burning, the sister he’d never known he had crushed in the wreckage, his people refugees in a spacecraft, the Warriors Three slain, Loki by his side, well. It had been a strange few days.

Thor pressed the panel to his cabin door and it slid open. He glanced down the corridor again, found it empty, and stepped inside.

Little as he wanted to admit it, he was tired. A king had no time for that sort of thing, of course, but his injuries from the battle had yet to heal. The place where his eye had been throbbed dully at all hours, his shoulder where Hela had impaled him on a spear and sent him tumbling across the rainbow bridge remained stiff and hard to use, and the stab wound in his back pinched any time he sat or stood. On top of that, outside of his brief spell of unconsciousness on Sakaar he’d not slept since before he’d left to capture the crown of Surtur.

He resisted the urge to sink back against the wall, or groan, instead going over to the mirror over the cabin’s small sink and gingerly pulling at the new eyepatch. The illusion faded as he did, leaving behind the bloodied bandage that was actually wrapped around his forehead. He was grateful that Loki had been able to craft such a convincing one. It wouldn’t have done for Asgard’s new King to walk around still bleeding from the eye socket. He’d been sorely tempted to ask his brother to restore his hair, as well, before he’d gone back out in front of his people.

Slowly, Thor unwound the bandage from his head, wincing as the cloth pulled at the flesh it’d stuck to. Then he leaned forward and squinted his remaining eye at his reflection. The wound was ugly, bloody and burnt and slowly seeping some sort of dark fluid. Well, Hela’s blade had certainly been imbued with some sort of evil power, and he supposed an ugly wound was par for the course.

Taking a bracing breath, he pulled a small cloth from the cabinet beside him, wet it in the sink and pressed it to his eye socket. For a moment, the cool water was soothing, before the pressure sent a spike of agony through the socket and seemingly all the way back into his skull. He clenched his teeth, forced a whimper to die in his throat, and did it again. Little by little the socket cleared, the water running pink and gray down the drain. By the time he was done, his shoulders were shaking and his remaining eye stung with unshed tears.

That was the worst of it, at least, Thor reminded himself as he wound a new clean bandage around the wound. It was much easier to dress the wounds in his shoulder and back, for--though they were deep and difficult to reach--the pain was not quite so distracting as it was coming from the place where his eye should have been.

With no time to waste, Thor stripped off his tunic, and began the same ritual on his shoulder. It, too, had a burnt and sticky look about it, and oozed black when he prodded it with the cloth. He gritted his teeth and secured the bandage with one hand, then moved his arm experimentally in a circle. It hurt, a lot, but not so much he couldn’t do it, which he supposed was really what mattered. Dressing his back required standing in front of the mirror again and twisting awkwardly, but before long he’d finished that too.

He stood in front of the mirror a moment longer, looking at the white bandages crossing his chest and shoulder and forehead. Hardly the image of a king. Narrowing his gaze, he forced himself to stand up straighter, taller, and to wipe the haggard expression from his face. His people needed him. He would not let them down.

Decisively, Thor pulled his tunic back on, wincing only slightly at the movement, then pressed the patch over his aching socket. It clung and the illusion took hold again.

Thor smiled past the pain at his reflection, and judged that he looked the part. The rest would simply have to follow. He’d dallied enough in his cabin. There was much to do, planning and logistics and all that. Ruling over a people was much harder, he was learning, when they were hungry refugees crammed together in a spaceship with dozens of alien ex-gladiators.

He’d just turned toward the cabin door to leave when it rattled under someone’s knock. Thor glanced at his reflection one last time--saw only a trace of the exhaustion and pain he felt--and said in a friendly voice, “It’s open.”

The door swung open, revealing his brother’s narrow form.

Loki jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “You’re needed out there, brother.”

“Why?” Thor said, the pain immediately fading to the background as he wondered what calamity might have befallen his people now. “What’s going on, what’s wrong?”

“Calm down,” Loki said, stepping inside. His tone was flippant, but his eyes traveled up and down Thor’s body a moment, and his expression sobered before he asked, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Thor said. “What’s going on out there?”

“Oh, that. Minor dispute over sleeping space, seemed a bit of kingly presence might go a long way.”

He was peeing at Thor with a deeply shrewd expression, and Thor felt his skin prickle under the scrutiny. Outside of asking his brother to cover the damage to his face with illusion, he hadn't let on the extent of his injuries. Loki had sided with him for the moment, but--as much as Thor loved him, would always love him--there was really no telling where his loyalties might lie tomorrow.

“Take me to it,” pushing past him to get to the corridor. He had to grit his teeth as his shoulder clipped the doorframe ever so slightly, sending shards of pain through his arm and chest. His head throbbed and his back ached.

Loki had pivoted from his position just inside Thor’s cabin, and now looked out at him. The expression on his face almost looked like genuine concern. “Are you sure you're all right?”

“Yes,” Thor said impatiently, because he had to be, because it was his duty to see to the needs of his people. He certainly didn’t have time for anyone’s true concern, let alone another of Loki’s bids for power. “Who's fighting?”

Loki hesitated, then told him.

As it turned out, he couldn't have gotten there sooner.

The dispute had developed into a brawl in the spaceship's narrow barracks, involving not only the original parties--farmers whose land had bordered each other’s on Asgard-- but also several of their grown sons and daughters, all of whom appeared to be acting out some long-held grudge. Most of them quieted when Thor strode in with a loud “Stop this now!”  But the farmers, whose names, Thor thought he recalled, were Bjorn and Helga, kept going at it, which gave Thor no choice but to force himself between them and call on his lightning. Not enough to hurt them, of course, just a small shock to throw them both back before any more damage could be done.

It came, but the charge sent agony coursing through his socket and shoulder and back, and he staggered with a strangled cry, aware of the dozen or so eyes upon him, including Loki’s searching gaze. Perhaps they all thought that was how it was supposed to work, though, because as soon as they’d righted themselves Bjorn the farmer only started yelling obscene things over Thor’s still-outstretched arms at Helga the farmer, who charged him again.

“Enough!” Thor barked again, not that he expected it to make much of a difference. He was still reeling from the lightning misfire and forced himself to stand up straight, because clearly he was going to have to do this the old-fashioned way. He allowed himself a brief millisecond to really, really miss Mjolnir.

When Helga plowed right into him, he caught her in a bear hug, then threw her forcefully aside, where two of her more strapping daughters grabbed her and restrained her before she could surge forward again.

“Okay, now,” Thor said in a placating tone, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture and offering both sides a smile. His shoulder protested the move. “Now that we’re all not actively trying to dismember each other. What seems to be the problem here?”

Nearly an hour and a lot of yelling later, Thor had gained a considerably renewed respect for benevolent kings everywhere. Little as he wanted to see anyone hurt, especially any of his own people, arbitration was a much more difficult way to solve problems than hitting them with a hammer.

Still, both parties had seemed to come away equally satisfied, or perhaps dissatisfied, which seemed the best outcome he could have hoped for.

He started toward the ship’s kitchens, where he’d been planning to have a talk with Korg about the state of the ship’s stores, when Loki appeared by his side again.

“I saw that,” Loki said.

Thor smiled at him. “Yes, I thought that went rather well. Helga will be much happier on the aft of this ship.”

Loki pressed his lips together in disapproval. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh. Well,” Thor said, with a slight shrug of his good shoulder. He waited until several Asgardian children ran by, apparently in some game of tag, before adding, “What did you mean, then?”

“The lightning. Something went wrong,” Loki said in a low voice, making Thor glance around nervously. He did not want to talk about his weakness in a corridor where anyone could walk by at any moment. Or, for that matter, at all. Especially not to Loki.

“It was nothing,” Thor said quietly, shaking his head and chuckling as if it really was a silly thing to be concerned with. His socket gave a stab of pain. “Overextertion. I'm clearly fine.”

“You're clearly not,” Loki returned, then they both paused while the children ran back the other way, this time pursued by a haggard-looking Asgardian in a bonnet.

When they were out of the way, Thor clapped Loki on the shoulder. “I appreciate your concern, brother.” He really did, actually, insofar as it was really concern and not some sort of angling to declare him unfit for the throne or whatever Loki’s game was. He hated having to be suspicious of his own brother. But it wouldn't do to let Loki stab him in the back again, literally or metaphorically. There was simply too much at stake. “I'm very busy,” he added. “And also fine.”

Loki squinted at him. “...Very well.”

Thor left him standing in the hallway and went to the ship's galley. The pain grated on with the occasional breath-stealing spike. He ignored it, however, because whereas it had originally seemed a good idea to put Korg on kitchen duty after he'd volunteered to get everything organized, several Asgardians had taken issue with the rations they’d been apportioned and the very last thing they all needed was another brawl. Particularly one involving Korg or the other former gladiators.

As they stood talking for a while about fair rationing and supply runs and work schedules and democratic input into the whole thing, Thor leaned his hip against the counter and hoped Korg didn't notice that it was starting to be the only thing holding him up. He felt odd, dizzy and shaky and a little too warm.

He did catch Miek staring up at him when he slipped a little and caught himself on the counter on his elbow before making it look intentional. Miek gave an unintelligible chirp, but Korg only said absentmindedly, “No, Miek, that is definitely not what the peanut butter is for.”

Once that business was sorted, Thor took his leave of Korg and Miek and set off for his cabin again. He couldn't yet retire for the day--he had plans to walk amongst his people and hear their concerns, which were undoubtedly numerous--but under the illusion and his tunic the bandages felt sticky and hot and wet.

As soon as the door clanked shut behind him, Thor slumped, staggering over to the cabin’s small cot and sitting heavily. It creaked under his weight. With a sigh, he rested his good elbow on his knee and dropped his head into his hand. The world tilted, and he closed his eye against the dizziness.

He allowed himself a few breaths that way, then pulled up, steadying himself with his hand on the edge of the bed. It was frustrating to be so weak, when so much needed to be done. But there was no point in sitting around and bemoaning it.

He went to pull his eyepatch off and release the illusion for another quick round of wound-cleaning before he went back out to the ship proper, when the whole cabin plunged into darkness.

For one horrible moment he thought something must have happened to his other eye, but as hazy shapes arranged themselves around him he realized that the lights had only gone out. Thor walked across the room, banging his shin on a chair, and fumbled for the door handle before ripping it open.

The hall had gone dark as well, and muffled shouts and cries echoed their way through its dark length.

“What is this foul magic,” Thor muttered to himself, sending sparks of lightning to his fingers to light the dark hall. Even the small charge made each injury sing in pain, but he paid it little mind, fear thrumming through him. Had Hela returned, somehow, to exact her revenge on his people?

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the sparks flying out of his fingers illuminated Loki standing beside him.

“It’s not magic,” Loki said.

“How long have you been standing there?” Thor huffed.

“Not long,” Loki said dismissively. “I was coming to your cabin to speak with you. It’s not magic.”

“How can you be so sure?” Thor asked, feeling tired again. His head throbbed where his eye used to be.

“It was our new friend Korg,” Loki drawled.

Thor frowned, not following. “Korg cast us into darkness. Why?”

“He ‘blew a fuse,’” Loki said, treating the unfamiliar words with disdain. “Or something of the sort. I have no idea what he was doing in that kitchen and I don't particularly care. In any case, they're all saying what we need to fix it is a large amount of electricity applied to a port on the ship's outer hull. Normally it would come from another ship, but, well. We don't have one of those.”

“I'll do it,” Thor said. “Obviously. Where is this port?”

Loki hesitated. “The other choice is to put out a call and wait for another ship to show up. Sure, the people wouldn't be very happy about the delay, but it's not like we're in a hurry to get anywhere, and most of us don't actually need much air.”

Thor narrowed his eye at him. He wanted to believe the best of Loki, he really did. He wanted to believe he was no longer angling for the throne. But his brother had to know that they were low on rations and that sitting dead in space waiting for help would only sow discord among his people.

“I will do it,” Thor said firmly, ignoring the warmly unpleasant sensation of something trickling out of his throbbing, burnt-out eye socket into the soaked bandage. He could deal with it after he jump started the ship.

“Are you sure?” Loki asked after another moment had gone by. “You look unwell.”

Thor summoned a pale smile and said, “I feel fine. Let's go.”

The port, as it turned out, was on the belly of the ship near the lower docking bay. It opened wide in the belly of the ship where gargantuan cables could be extended from one ship to another.

Thor clung to the underside of the ship, his feet encased in magnetic boots, and wished he hadn't been quite so quick to turn down the rest of the space suit. As an Asgardian, and the God of Thunder, he wasn't supposed to need protection from the frigid vacuum of space. It would certainly have raised eyebrows had he outfitted himself like a human. Only now he felt weak, the radiation from a nearby sun hot against his skin, pain pulsing with a renewed energy through his injuries with every step. It sucked at his resolve, and he hadn’t even tried to call the lightning back yet.

He reached the port after what felt like a long time but could only have been minutes and knelt beside it. It was at least as tall as he was, lined with complicated-looking electronics the purposes of which he could only guess at.

If he was correct in understanding the problem, it really didn’t matter.

He pressed his hands against two of the gigantic cords lining the port, and closed his eyes, calling forth all the lightning he could muster. He was distantly aware of it rushing through him, his eye burning white fire as the crackling energy surged from his hands into the bowels of the ship. The pain that flared in his empty socket and shoulder and back was blinding in its intensity, a thousand knives slicing through his flesh, fire, pain, and he could barely think enough to keep the lightning coming and he was screaming, probably, but there was no air and no sound and all there was was agony.

He blinked, and discovered he’d passed out in his magnet boots.

Each place where Hela has sliced him still burned, white hot and ferocious, but it was nothing like what it had been seconds (Minutes? Hopefully not more than minutes) ago. It was all fine, though, because he could see the ship was lit up from the inside. It had worked.

He clomped his way back inside, and opened the airlock and climbed wearily back in. Several of his people, and the Hulk, were waiting for him, and there was a scattered cheer as he stumbled back into the hall and pulled off the boots.

“Yes, yes, it was nothing, what’s the point in being God of Thunder if you can’t summon a little lightning now and again?” he said, waving a hand graciously and forcing his features into something like a smile. He was fine. He was going to be just fine, he just needed to get away from all these people were he could tend to his wounds in peace. The lingering pain was making his good eye water and he only hoped no one noticed.

He made it into the next corridor, which was thankfully empty, before he collapsed.

It surprised him, really, his knees giving way beneath him like they were made of jelly. Instinctively he tried to catch himself with his hands but his torn shoulder refused to take his weight and he ended up face-planting ignominiously, which was good for another wave of pain through his burnt out socket.

Forcing back the desire to groan, or to weep, he closed his eye with effort and started picking himself up off the floor. It wouldn’t do to be found like this by anyone. Least of all--

“Hello, brother.”

This time, a short groan did escape him.

“Loki...this isn’t...the time,” he muttered, barely on his hands and knees. Everything spun dizzily around him.

“Come on,” was all Loki said, looping an arm around his waist and hauling him to his feet. The pressure on his back and shoulder made him grunt, but he didn’t pull away until he was sure he was steady on his feet again. Well, more or less. His legs were wobbly but with a little help from the wall he was able to get by just fine.

“I’m going back to my cabin,” he told Loki.

“Excellent. I’m coming with you,” Loki said.

“No, you’re not.”

“How exactly were you planning to stop me?”

They stared at each other for a beat. In it, Thor felt weary beyond even his years. He was tired of distrusting his brother. He wanted to believe that Loki truly had turned over a new leaf, that his coming to their aid in the battle on the bridge meant he could rule what remained of Asgard with Loki at his side, as it was meant to be. That the hug they’d shared meant he could stop being wary of another betrayal.

Without saying a word, he turned around and started toward his cabin. Loki hovered beside him, close as if he expected Thor to fall again. Which, clearly, he wasn’t going to do anymore.

“What do you want? Really?” Thor asked in a low voice as they neared the cabin door. Whatever it was, he would have to deal with it before he could dress his wounds again.

“I want to help you,” Loki said.

“I mean really,” Thor said, pulling at the door.

Loki followed him inside, stepping over the lip at the bottom of the door a lot more gracefully than Thor had.

“What’s so hard to believe?” Loki asked.

Thor kneaded his aching forehead with his fingers. “I love you, brother, but the past few years have taught me better than to trust you. I know what you’re doing, and you should know that I’m not going to give up the throne that easily. I owe it to the people of Asgard.”

Loki’s expression was unreadable. “That’s what you think I’ve been trying to do.”

“Of course it is,” Thor said.

Loki sighed. “Take off the patch.”

“Why?” Thor asked suspiciously.

“Just do it,” Loki said.

When Thor didn’t move, Loki waved his hand, and the illusion disappeared on its own.

“Oh, my,” Loki said softly.

Thor turned and caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the mirror hanging on the cabin wall. The bandage he’d wrapped around his head not hours ago was soaked through entirely by the black, goopy substance he’d cleaned out of the wound earlier, along with crusty blood and what looked suspiciously like pus. Under the bandage, the peeking edges of the wound were painful and inflamed where they weren’t charred.

“What’s wrong with me?” he asked in a small voice.

“That, brother,” Loki said, with a only hint of his habitual smugness, “is what I’ve been trying to find out all day.”

“No, it isn’t,” Thor protested weakly, thinking of all the times he’d run into Loki. Loki had had questions, sure, but each time it had clearly been with an eye toward unseating Thor from his newly gained throne. Except… each time, Loki had brought an issue of real import to Thor’s attention, then expressed concern about his wounds, or suggested a solution that would be less trying for him.

Loki raised an eyebrow.

“Oh,” Thor said.

“Oh, indeed,” Loki said.

“I really thought you were trying to unseat me as ruler of Asgard,” Thor explained with a tiny shrug. He was smiling, however.

“I suppose it can be forgiven,” Loki said.

“I'm only glad you're still on my side, brother,” Thor said.

Loki returned his smile. “For the moment.”

Thor huffed out a laugh, then winced. “For the moment.”

At his wince, concern colored Loki’s features again. He stepped closer to Thor, his long fingers outstretched toward Thor's face.

“Do you mind?” Loki said.

 

“Go ahead,” Thor said.

The bandage was tacky with dried blood and gore and the black substance that had soaked it though. Thor ground his teeth together as Loki pulled delicately at it, but he couldn't stop the small noise of pain that escaped him.

“Almost there,” Loki said kindly. He moved onto Thor’s shoulder, next, and then his back, biting his lip as he inspected each oozing wound. But his touch was light, soothing even, and Thor found himself relaxing under his ministrations.

It had been so long since anyone had treated him so tenderly that Thor felt the urge to weep.

He didn't, of course. That would have been ridiculous.

“I recognize this,” Loki said thoughtfully, “Powerful, dark magic, eating you from the inside out. To be honest, I’m not sure how you’re still on your feet. The pain must be incredible. And using your power, well. I’d expect you to be a quivering lump by now.”

“It’s not that bad,” Thor said. 

Loki quieted him with a look. “Fortunately for you, Mother taught me more than just illusions.”

“You can heal this?” Thor asked.

“Yes,” Loki said. “I think so. I'll have to see what we have in our stores. Can you sit still for…twenty entire minutes or am I going to have to chase you down again?”

Guiltily, Thor said, “I had planned to walk amongst our people and hear their concerns.”

“Don’t,” Loki said, and stalked out again.

Thor leaned back against the sparse pillows on the little cot, his head swimming, and glanced down at his festering shoulder. It really did look grotesque, if he were being honest with himself, and it occurred to him that had Loki not offered his help he would have run out of other options rather fast.

There was something to be said for not being alone. For having someone to trust, an equal in all senses of the word. Family. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax like he hadn’t in far too long.

When he opened them, Loki was standing over him again, wiping his hands on a cloth. The first thing he noticed was that the grinding, unbearable pain that had been his constant companion for hours was considerably less grinding and even somewhat bearable. The second was that new, clean bandages covered his shoulder and wrapped around his waist and head.

“I took the liberty,” Loki said. “A little spell to keep you asleep, while I did the unpleasant bits. How do you feel?”

“Better,” Thor allowed, pushing himself up on one elbow. His shoulder still protested, as did his back, but the pain was simply that of a healing wound. The unholy tenor of the day's agony was gone. He peeked under the bandage on his shoulder and saw only carefully sewn skin.

Loki offered him a hand and helped to lever him into a sitting position.

“Thank you,” Thor said sincerely, smiling a little sadly. “And I'm sorry. I should have trusted you.”

It was Loki’s turn to sigh. “No, you shouldn’t have. Perhaps I should be sorry for that.”

Thor’s smile deepened, and he clapped a hand on Loki’s shoulder, squeezing affectionately. “There’s no need. You’re my brother, and no amount of lies, deceit, and betrayal will change that.”

Loki brushed his hand off, but his tone was light. “Remember who just saved your life.”

Thor sobered, gazing at Loki. “I will. I will remember that.”

A few minutes later found them strolling down the ship’s corridor, Thor glad to be walking under his own power with little lingering concern about tipping over and landing on his face. Asgardians and freed slaves greeted them as they passed. They discussed a little of what had happened to Asgard, and the journey ahead of them.  For the first time in a while, Thor felt...at peace. As if everything was going to work out just fine.

They reached the observation deck, where they stood staring for a while into the abyss.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to go back to Earth?” Loki said.

“Yes, of course. The people of Earth love me. I’m very popular.”

Everything was going to work out fine.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Say hi on [Tumblr](http://starkly-tony.tumblr.com)!


End file.
